The Horror that danced on Hackman's Hill
by alabaster514
Summary: One of my first horror stories. Don't be too harsh.


The most notable, and perhaps cruelest aspect of man is his willingness to use his superior knowledge for the use of only conquering his enemies. No others demonstrated this mindset more accurately and fittingly then the despicable Alexander Gusteberg, who, after suffering through years of unbeknownst humiliation, set it upon to embark on a terrible journey in an unexpected wake of achieving a vile and insidious conclusion. Alexander was in search for an ancient power that, since man had industrialized, had slipped into rumors of ancient horrors and whimsical fairy tales long ago. This power only few have known, and of those who did know of it, most are now deceased, left to rot in the dirt as punishment for their carelessness and cruel usage of forbidden knowledge. The few others who do remember now wonder aimlessly through dark and unseen places in worlds beyond. It was in the later years of the nineteen forties when travels to distant places became nearly impossible. This was partly because of the barriers formed through the misery because of the Second World War. But Alexander was an intelligent and cunning man, for he knew much of the world. Alex knew that in order to achieve his goals, the act of innocence would have to be worn. And so he did this, he crept like a wondering rat searching for food within the darkest recesses of the earth. He searched vigorously through ancient libraries, digging through ancient tomes and manuscripts trying to find the secret to this ancient power. But this was all to no avail, for the old wonders and secrets of the world had long since disappeared since the spreading of man over the globe. That power which Alex had heeded so desperately seemed to have vanished from the minds of man. But undetermined to give up, Alex continued forth on his fruitless journey giving into the nonsense of old wives tales and ancient legends. Soon enough Alex passed through the threshold of madness, of which there would be no return for his despicable soul. He searched darker and more remote places only to find engraved writings of stories telling of the dark and terrible times before man beast, and the origin of these powers on the earth. This information was all under documentation and was easily accessible for the public, for to them, they were only stories. It wasn't long after Alex had fallen into his deranged state of mind that he came to hear the whispers mentioning the rumors regarding an old cemetery in the most isolated part of North Eastern England. Alex made his way to through the bleak landscapes and the bumbling masses of ignorance that flooded the city streets until at last he had made it to a small settlement that lay between the large green hills of the regional geography. The settlement was an old one, full of rudimentary structures and decomposing houses. The place was under constant surveillance of the bleak grey sky, which never in the years of human remembrance, had allowed the sun to fully peak through the clouds. The people of the settlement were no less worn and drag, they masked their depressive feelings through long hours of work and rest. Alex seemed to notice the restlessness of the citizens, and began to question them on the whereabouts of the place that he had endeavoresly searched for so long. He came upon the settlements local inn, and questioned the owner regarding the matter. The owner, at first reluctant to speak to the anonymous individual. Began to give into Alex's falsified charm. Alex soon figured that much of the town lacked any sort of secondary education after listening to the words that came out of the man's mouth. When Alex mentioned the rumors he had heard of the hill, the inns owner adopted a queer look upon his face. The man spoke, "yeah, I know of the place of which you speaks of, that der place is known as Hackman's hill, named after old Hubert Hackman who founded dis here small settlement. That cemetery was built long ago before Hackman came though, and its inhabitance were there before them steel ages came through too. But don't go there though stranger, them hills are for witches and devils, some say that on a pale moons light, the great unspeakable, terrible, thing, Gug-shubbalba, will fall out of the sky, and dance the dance of the dead, waking up the peoples from under those hills, just like it was told in those devil tomes of old. I believe it too, sometimes I feel the shaken and stirring of the ground, and the unnatural callings from beyond the grave, animals don't go near dat there god dammed hill. And we here at Hackman don't fuck with em either. Don't do it stranger, I beg you not too, I can tell by the way you look at me, you think you'll be the one to live and tell the tale. I can tell you that's the same look the others give before they are taken. You may be a thrill seeker stranger, or you may just be mad as the three headed king of hell himself. But listen to me close stranger, and hear my words good, what the dead there have to say, ain't for the living to find out." With that closing statement, Alex left in search for this hill. And it wasn't soon after that he found the unholy place that the inn keeper had described. The place smelled of an ungodly odor, to potent to describe. There were no birds in the sky nor any little critters to be found. Alex continued to walk among the hills. Something about them seemed unnatural, wither it was the way the stretched on and on rolling and rolling as far as the horizon could take them. Or was it the structure and shape of those condescending hills that gave them a feeling of the most malign intent. The air seemed heavy and the fog crept eerily along the ground. Alex started searching the hills for graves only to find something that shook him to the core. The graves were marked not by tomb stones or plaques, but instead by oddly greyish stones of which no epitaphs were inscribed. And, oddly enough, they all seemed to lean towards a hill that lay within the center of the cemetery, a hill of which under a brightly pale moon, would act as the residence for a thing from that comes from beyond the furthest gulfs of oblivion. A thing that travels through the darkest and most wicked places of gulfs unknown. To land upon the earth and join the dammed in a dance of rhythmic alignment to the vastly chaotic and infinite cords of the ceaseless poundings and pulling's of the universe.


End file.
